


Weeds of Mourning

by Jayne L (JayneL)



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-12
Updated: 2003-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayneL/pseuds/Jayne%20L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A family, a funeral, and a big beige coat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weeds of Mourning

**Author's Note:**

> Written immediately after the reveal that Cameron is Zander's dad.

Zander stares through the window at Kelly's, stares at the back of the man outside, and doesn't want to believe what he's seeing.

_Dad?_

Alexander remembers the lapels of that big beige coat, soft and scratchy--almost like felt--against his face.

There had been one hug at the funeral, and it had hurt. The interment: a sunny day, but cold, with clouds roiling up in the distance. Mom's tears like rain, her face was so wet; Dad standing around like he was lost, his arms stiff and unfeeling and useless when he gave that one hug, pulled Alexander against his chest so his cheek was pressed into the fabric, so he could hear the broken heartbeat thudding slow inside. All day, Alexander's new suit had been uncomfortable with his efforts not to rumple it, but Dad was a big man, strong, and when he finally let go, the jacket was creased all over and the tie was crooked.

Cold breeze for Florida, getting in everyone's hair, blowing Mom's silk scarf until it came right off her shoulder and sailed over her head. She didn't do anything to catch it; her left hand gave an involuntary jerk, but it was clutching at tissues, and she must've decided she needed them more than the scarf because her attempt stopped there. Dad moved--about three beats late--to chase it, but Mom blamed him for taking them hunting in first place, and he hadn't gone more than half a step before he seemed to realize that she wouldn't thank him. He stopped, and stood looking lost again.

Dad was a big man, tall and broad, and that coat made him stand out like a giant. A brown-beige trenchcoat--in the ranks of mourners wearing uniform black, it was too different, too glaringly light. And it was old; Mom had been reminding Dad to go shopping for a new warm coat for weeks, but he'd always been too busy. And since he was a big man, and since autumn was--for some reason--the off-season for buying winter coats, he hadn't been able to find one in his size in the two rushed days before the funeral. Alexander had seen Mom looking angrily in Dad's direction at different times through the day, and suddenly he really understood why.

Mom's scarf was gone. Dad was wearing an old, ugly coat. Alexander's new clothes were wrinkled, and Peter was wearing his best suit inside the box that was being lowered into a hole in the ground.

And it might not have been Dad's fault Peter got shot, but Alexander also understood why Mom acted like it was: it was easier to blame Dad than face the fact that Alexander was responsible. Losing one son was bad enough; hating the one that was left would be too much.

As for Alexander, well...when he bought his ticket for the first bus out of town that night, there was a reason the name he gave wasn't Alexander Lewis.

Zander stares through the window at Kelly's, telling himself that his vision's blurring because his breath is fogging on the cold glass.

_Dad. _

End.


End file.
